


Always, We Are Not Enough

by Drag0nst0rm



Series: The Lost Ones [5]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghosts, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loneliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-08-15
Packaged: 2018-08-08 20:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7772752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The smart thing to do, Tony knows, is to keep to himself and hide while he waits for his dad. He'll go crazy without some sort of interaction, though, so he starts looking for kids with the Sight.</p>
<p>It works really well.</p>
<p>Right up until it doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Always, We Are Not Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own NCIS. Warnings for alcohol abuse and child abuse.

The problem with being stuck in a hotel for twenty years was that Tony quickly ran out of things to do. Sure, he could watch TV, but sometimes, particularly at two o'clock in the morning, there was nothing on, and he got fidgety if he sat still for too long. He could and did patrol the hallways in search of food to snatch, but he had to be careful with that so he wouldn't get caught. When it was late and there was no one around, he could sneak into the little office set aside for guests and contact the McGeek - or, lately, he could just borrow people's personal devices - and he could normally find a book lying around somewhere, but . . .

Okay, the problem was less that he had nothing to do, and more that sometimes he might get the slightest bit lonely doing it, not that he would ever admit that out loud. He was a sociable guy, and emailing McGyver wasn't the same as actually talking to someone.

So he people watched. Not in a creepy way. He just liked to sit in the lobby and watch people come and go. He'd make up stories for where they'd come from and what they meant to each other.

He had to be careful, though. One out of ten people could see him, statistically speaking, and while most didn't comment on a kid sitting patiently on one of the couches, if someone did and realized their friend couldn't see him, or if they saw someone sit right on top of him . . . Things got messy.

So Tony was careful, and, mostly, people didn't notice him.

Well. Adult people didn't. Kids were a different story.

The kind of people who could afford this hotel were rich, and the kind that came were typically the type of rich where the wife wore shiny silk dresses that showed off her figure and where the husband was constantly getting business calls. Or sometimes the wife was the one getting business calls and the husband looked like a tuxedo was his natural habitat.

That was the way you had to think of them. Husband and wife, not mom and dad, no matter how many kids were tagging along with them. Because that kind of rich, that kind of too sharp shine, usually meant that the kids were either accessories or unwanted baggage, and if the kids were over the age of five, they usually knew it.

Kids like that were sometimes resentful, sometimes desperate, and nearly always bored and left to their own devices.

And one out of ten of them could see Tony.

If there were siblings it was harder, because Sight didn't always run in the family, and he couldn't exactly hang out with one of the kids while the other was wondering why their brother was talking to thin air. If the kid was too old it wouldn't work, because they would think they were too cool for it, and if it was a girl, sometimes she'd avoid him out of general principles, but sometimes he got lucky and hit the perfect combination of only child of the right age with the Sight who was just as desperate for someone to hang out with as he was.

Tony had it down to an art, and Jason was the perfect target.

He looked like he was about Tony's age, and he was curled up in the uncomfortable chair in the lobby that had one advantage and one advantage only: it was half hidden by a poorly placed potted tree. A thick book about history was perched on his knees, and his name had been carefully written on the corner of the front cover like he was afraid it would get lost.

A nerd, then, like McGeek, but at this point Tony didn't much care.

He sidled up behind the tree and peered over the kid's shoulder. "Whatcha reading?"

Jason jumped. "Um - nothing." He shoved the book down hastily. "It's for school:"

Ah, school. Tony remembered school. He didn't remember being assigned five hundred page monstrosities on the French Revolution in the fifth grade, particularly in June, but he did remember kids who read them for fun and how some of the other kids made fun of them for it.

He made sure his expression was open and friendly. "Is it any good?"

Jason still looked wary. "It's okay."

"I saw this really cool movie about the French Revolution once. _The Scarlet Pimpernel_ , starring Anthony Andrews. It was good."

Jason was finally starting to relax. "I saw that once."

Tony grinned at him, eager and inviting. "Yeah? What'd you think?"

Within minutes he had the kid right where he wanted him. Jason had forgotten his initial fear and was eagerly discussing every movie he'd ever seen or wanted to see, and Tony had maneuvered him into a hallway where people were less likely to wonder why that kid was talking to thin air.

Tony had to be careful not to talk too much. It had been months since he'd had an opportunity like this, and the urge to babble was nearly overwhelming, but he had to be careful. He couldn't afford to scare Jason off. The kid might be more interested in books than movies, but Tony would discuss genetic mutations if it would keep the kid's interest. He just needed to not be alone. Just for a little while.

Somehow they got on the topic of the new Nintendo Jason had in his room, and, naturally, Tony insisted on seeing it. Jason looked nearly as pleased as Tony felt. He kind of got the feeling the kid didn't have many friends.

Maybe they could stay in contact. It would be nice to have someone else to email. He wouldn't be able to tell Jason what he was really up to, of course, but he could steal stuff from movies about school. That would work, right?

Tony pushed the thought aside for the moment. For now, Jason was still here, and the Nintendo was just as awesome as Jason said it was. 

 

They talked while they played. Tony tried to keep the conversation focused on Jason.

Jason's dad, it turned out, was in the Navy and wasn't particularly high up, but Jason's mother had been rich. Jason's dad hadn't been the same after she died, and he saw a look on Jason's face when he said that.

Tony knew that look, and he knew that story. If Jason started coughing, then it would be _his_ story.

Tony heard enough to know he needed to be cautious. It would be better to leave before Jason's dad got back. Four o'clock should be plenty time enough, he figured.

They put the Nintendo away after a while and just started talking. Tony glanced at the clock occasionally. He'd told Jason that his parents would expect him back around four so that they could go to dinner together, and that his dad would be furious if he was late. Jason had nodded knowingly.

He was glancing at it again - 3:13 - when the door banged open. Jason's dad staggered in.

Drunk, if Tony was any judge. And after years of dealing with his dad and then watching patrons at the hotel, he most definitely was.

Jason's voice trailed off belatedly. His dad frowned. "Who were you talking to?" He pronounced the words carefully.

Tony shook his head at Jason frantically. Jason just frowned, confused and wary. He edged back a few steps, putting the bed between him and his dad. "T-tony," he said. He waved a hand helplessly towards Tony.

Jason's dad scanned the room blearily. "There's no one here," he finally concluded. His words didn't slur much. Not very drunk, then. Hopefully. Maybe. "You talking to yourself now?"

"No," Jason insisted. "He's right here. We've been talking all day."

"Jason, _shut up_ ," Tony hissed.

Jason looked back and forth between them. "I don't - He's _right there_ , Dad. Can't you see him?"

"So now I'm the crazy one, huh? _I'm_ crazy, and you're sitting here talking to thin air because you're not enough of a man to have any friends - "

This exact scene had never played out for Tony before, but the tension had. The signs had.

And Jason, for once secure in the knowledge that he was right and his dad was wrong, wouldn't stop talking.

 

The guests in the rooms next door heard raised voices. Some later reported two, others three. They heard loud noises. Something crashed, they all agreed, and a few admitted to having heard blows.

None of them did anything. It wasn't any of their business.

 

Tony had tried to get Jason to stop. When it was too late for that and Jason had a red mark at his face, he started throwing things. Maybe he could distract Jason's dad. Maybe he could get attention.

Jason had curled up on the floor in a ball to protect himself.

It wasn't working.

He had to do something. Anything.

He snatched the lamp from the bedside table. The cord snapped out of the socket. It was heavy, took more of his willpower than usual to carry it, but that didn't matter. He jumped up onto the bed to get the height he needed and crashed the lamp over Jason's dad's head. It was just like cracking a bottle over someone's head in a movie, right? That always knocked the bad guy out long enough for the good guys to get away.

Jason's dad swayed and fell. Tony scrambled over to Jason.

He didn't expect the man to stay down long, so he knew they'd have to hurry to get out of there before he got up.

Jason was breathing funny. He didn't look good at all.

He looked scared.

"You've got to get up, Jason, come on," he said frantically.

Jason's lips looked kind of blue, but it was hard to tell with one of the lamps lying broken on the floor.

Tony felt strange, energy coursing through him like adrenaline used to.

It felt good.

"Jason! Jason, come on!" He glanced over at Jason's dad.

That was when he realized there actually wasn't any hurry, and he nearly panicked all over again.

"Okay. Okay, take your time. We've got time. You're gonna be fine." He had to be strong. Jason needed help.

He'd just killed somebody. This was bad, this was really bad, he hadn't meant to, but this was really, really, really bad, only bad people did something like this -

"Jason? Jason!"

 

This is what Tony figured out later:

He'd starting running in a blind panic. A few hallways down, he'd passed a maid, one he'd passed a dozen times before.

"Are you all right?" she'd called after him.

She'd never seen him before.

He'd curled up in one of his favorite hiding spots and sobbed. He'd killed someone. Only bad ghosts did that. Dangerous ghosts. He'd wished he could be someone, anyone, else.

His body had shifted without his quite meaning for it too. He'd started crying even harder, and it had slid back into its usual place.

Jason was dead, and it was his fault. He'd killed someone, he was a monster, and they would definitely be calling for hunters from the mainland now.

What kind of person was he that could even be thinking about that?

 

_Hey, McGeek._

_Something bad's happened. The police are checking out the hotel. Everything will probably be fine, but I just wanted you to know in case you had been thinking about coming back for a visit. I might not be able to talk for a while. They're looking into everything, and the last thing I want is for them to see a computer using itself and look into what it was doing._

_Don't worry if you don't hear from for a while, okay? You know me, I can handle whatever they throw at me. I might have to leave, but I'll be fine wherever I end up, even if it's a place without a computer._

_But, hey, you know all about that, right? I'm sorry you had to move out of the house, but if your family was hiring hunters, you made the right call._

_Look, I know I don't normally say stuff like this, but just in case it's a while before we can talk again, I want to tell you that I know you can do it. Someday, your dad's going to tell you how proud he is of you._

_Be safe, McGoo._

 

This is what Tony meant:

_I've done something bad. I'm pretty sure they're going to salt me. I'm not ready to pass on, and I'm really scared, but I can't tell you that. Don't worry about me. That's not your job._

_Be safe, McWhatever. It's been really nice to have a friend._


End file.
